Talks about Messi leaving Barcelona have triggered memories of another club favourite. Andrés Iniesta’s departure from Barcelona is one that the club has still not recovered from and I think it never will.
It was the 2010 World Cup final in South Africa. Geared with food in the football-crazy family that I have, we all huddled in front of the newly purchased TV to watch the match. I’d been following football for a year or two, and being heavily influenced by statistics and newspaper reports, rooting for David Villa, with all his charm, was easy.
But with that goal four minutes before the end of extra time, Andrés Iniesta won hearts and my awe. An image that has stayed with me since that day — the goal and his tribute to Dani Jarque, his late friend.
Ten years since then and inching towards another World Cup, I now know men like Andrés Iniesta Lujan are rare. In my mind, almost immortal. Born out of the Barcelona youth system, short and shy and controlling the midfield like the true magician he is, Iniesta is easy to miss — and also very hard.
I grew up with this man, with the trebles and the trophies throughout the year, and through the games that were lost. So when Barcelona were minutes from yet another Copa del Rey triumph, it all seemed normal.
But it wasn’t. When the Wanda Metropolitano stadium in Madrid rose to give him a standing ovation, they all stood with chants of “Iniesta”. That’s the thing about him. You can’t help but love him, no matter which team you support.
As he walked up to collect the 34th trophy of his career, soon to be followed by the 35th, this was the moment that made me cry: To see him lift that trophy one last time, marking the end of an era for Barcelona.
Pep Guardiola, as a Barcelona player, once famously told Xavi: “You’re going to retire me. This lad (Iniesta) is going to retire us all.”
Guardiola has even said that the footballer even helped him understand the sport better.
But since he left the club, it seems all too unreal.
You can no longer see him controlling the midfield, passing the ball to Messi, assuring that everything would always be okay. His departure marked the end of an era in Barcelona and maybe in the world of football itself.
Between the race for the Ballon d’Or, the constant Internet battles comparing Messi and Ronaldo, and the recent rise of Salah, Iniesta was comfort, the home you kept going back to when things went wrong.
Seeing the tears as he took the bench before the end of the final, I knew I had lost yet another home.
As the end of this season inches closer, all I now have are memories — memories of a stellar era of football. Here’s to my number six and eight forever.
